6 Billion A.D.

Synopsis: Rigel, by chance immortal, witnesses the collapse of the universe over 10,000 years.

Call to Action: Besides the basic plot above anything is fair game. We have 10,000 years to cover so there is much freedom to explore subplots. Feel free to edit, change, improve, delete, add to the story. Even a sentence or two would be helpful. If a large enough number of people contributed in this way; producing material daily, weekly, monthly, this could be a great project. Jump on board and help create an open-source novel.

Chapter 1: (...)

Tentative Synopsis: Rigel, a botanist, embarks as a passenger on a ship headed to a galactic conference only to find out that he has an incurable disease, and six months left to live.

"Rigel!" The woman's resonant voice boomed down the narrow corridor leading to the botanist's bunk on the passenger ship, and he paused midstride. The voice wasn't familiar. He frowned, then turned to face her. High spots of color tinged her cheeks, and she regarded him with eyes that were disturbingly compassionate. "Are you Dr. Veteris?"

"Yes." Rigel nodded. "That's me. And who, exactly, are you?"

"Dr. Veritis. Rigel. I'm sorry, you don't know me. I'm Carmen. I was dispatched to inform you that the test results from your physical came back." The woman's voice was surprisingly breathless. Rigel's eyes swept over her. Beads of sweat stood out on her brow. She had sprinted to intercept him before he had entered the dormant stage in his bunk. But why?

"I already got my results." Rigel shook his head. "I was cleared for this project weeks ago. I'm afraid you must be mistaken."

"No, doctor. I'm sorry. There is no mistake." Carmen cleared her throat, and he caught the subtle glance away from his face. She was struggling to maintain eye contact with him. "We thought there was at first. That we had mixed up your test results with somebody else's. But we didn't. Dr. Veretis, there's no way to sugarcoat this. You tested positive for the blue."

"The blue?" The words hit his ears, echoing hollowing in his head. The pandemic that had been sweeping his home planet. The reason he was boarding this craft. The mission to find the cure. He had worked alongside sufferers tirelessly since the disease had broken out. He had only been chosen for the project because of his genetic immunity. And now this woman, this sweaty and confused woman, was telling him he had it? "That's not possible. I'm immune."

"No, Dr. Veretis. You're not. You only had one haplotype. You had a fifty-fifty chance of getting it. And I'm so sorry, doctor. But I can't let you continue. I can't let you board this ship and infect the colonists."

"But we're so close to the cure." Rigel shook his head again, as though he could dislodge her toneless words from his head. "I had the extract from the cacti plant refined and ready."

Carmen coughed. Her eyes met his, and he saw the flat expression in them. "Dr. Veretis, as you already know, there's no cure for the blue. But I have an alternative solution that I may be able to offer you."

The plant doctor's eyes widened. Surely she couldn't mean...? Immortality was expressly forbidden for a man of his stature. It wasn't just highly illegal. It was also dirty, shameful. It was a coward's solution to the disease.

"If you don't mind, Dr. Veretis. But may I have you lead me to your bunk? I'd like to discuss your options with you." Carmen held up a small leather briefcase. He barely glanced down at it. He already knew it contained the vials, the ones that contained the serum that could transform him into an immortal. A benign smile worked its way across Carmen's face. "Of course, the choice is yours."

1.1

The landscape glowed beneath the evening sky. Seven suns burned through the solid mauve canopy above their walk. They approached the cave's ominous mouth as if on eggshells, not the egg shells of an earth ostrich or one of the insectoid shells of the K'oooo'lath but much like the delicate egg shells that one would conceive of in a metaphorical sense. The two marveled at the life form that had pulled them so far across the stars. “Once in a hundred years!”

“Do you want me to extract Rigel?” Gine asked. “What’s so special about those little lichens anyway?”

“Everything. There’s a pattern here, extremely rare. And no, we’re not going to extract, just observe.”

“For how long?” Gine asked. “I honestly don’t know. However long it blooms. A botanist must be patient.”

“If you say so. What a way to spend your birthday.” Gine grinned.

This was the beginning, before things slowed down. I was a young 64 then. I'm surprised I remember. After all, it was 10,000 years ago. The average lifespan was only 340 solar standard years. To have surpassed it would have had inconceivable reasoning for the existence of mortal life.

...

I arrived home later that night, there was a milky grey sky that changed into black ebony tones as the seven suns danced away and around the planetary body like seven dancers. (describe trek through countryside?). My loft was empty, uninspiring, spartan. I liked it that way. The screen to the far side of the space blinked, announcing a new message. From my father.

1.2

The...

1.3

...

The galaxy was in crisis. A conference was called concerning all 1000 members of the League. The top minds of the quadrant were to convene on the planet (...).

...

This, more than anything, was the impetus of my tale, because if not for a chance ...

...

I received a transmission from my father. He was a stern man who never minced words. (better description). He held the rank of general in the League. At that time the League was new and they needed someone like him. The demands of the League were incessant, urgent, and my father saw them as a challenge.

I hadn't seen him in years. “Happy birthday, son. “ his long, stalky face looked stilted. I could tell he was worried. But he nevertheless tried to show joy.

“I will be passing through your sector, and was hoping I could (scoop) you up, so that we might spend some time together.”

What...brings you through the (backwater)?” I asked.

“A matter of importance. It is also urgent. But I would also like to see my son. It’s been too long.”

My father hadn't always been so intentional about spending time with "his son". Not that I felt ignored as a child. Actually, perhaps that would have felt a bit like a break. No. My father ran me hard. It put a wedge between us for some time. But something changed in him. Something had softened his sharp edges, and I didn't know what it was.

1.4

The cruiser Maxilon was passing through the Crab Nebula on its way to the conference to which my father had been summoned. It was being held at a secret location, on one of the fringe worlds of the League.

I arrived at the lift. The ship was massive, one of the Leviathan-class interstellar cruisers. Its black perma-steel hull sparkled, bright and dark, translucent and opaque, sinister and beautiful.

[suggest changing Crab Nebula as a location - it will not exist in the far future. However, 6B years from now, there will be many other supernova remnant nebulae, so could just make up a name]

...

1.5

The scientists were perplexed. "How did we not see this?" Tular Renn, a brilliant astrophysicist fresh from Orion Prime Institute of Technology cried out, his eyes scanning the holographically projected image in front of him.

"We should have known about this decades ago," interjected an older female scientist.

A man at the end of the table stood up. "It seems impossible, and yet the data is quite clear! The speed of light has slowed down. This could have well started thousands of years ago!"

"That's preposterous! The speed of light is a constant." came another voice in the conference room deep within the Department of Sciences, a department of the League.

"Or so we thought," replied the Tular Renn.

The General stood up, "I am not after theories! What are we to do about it?"

"We're not sure, we project hundreds, perhaps thousands of galaxies have already been consumed. And the effect seems to be accelerating.

I interjected, without thinking, "how long do we have?"

"And you are?" the ... scientist queried.

"That's my son," the general replied. "He's a scientist of sorts."

"But why is he here?" The general raised his voice, he's here because I want him here!, and that's that"

"If you insist," the ... scientist replied.

The meeting went on for hours. I hardly grasped any of it, but it became clear that the first effects of the (rift) would be here in decades, if not years. A hundred, a thousand years? before things became completely inhospitable; no one really knew. Would the universe really be destroyed? Could it be an elaborate hoax? In all honesty, at the time, I didn't care much, when it really came down to it. I would be long dead before it happened.

1.6

The ...

1.7

... At the request of my father I went to get a long overdue physical exam. The room was crowded with (instruments). It resembled (...). “Pardon the mess. We are in the process of renovating this facility.” The doctor was an older man, with dark orange skin. Spots cluttered his large, round face. He was a Belerion I believe. “I am...” The doctor interrupted, “you must be Rigel. General Vango talks about you all the time. He’s informed me to give you every test there is. The doctor paused for a second. “Where are my manners, I’m Doctor Condel, or Co-del’-ondel-o’ris if you have the patience.”

It was strange to hear that my father talked about me. I always thought of myself as being a chore to him - an inconvenience that needed to be met every couple of years. But I knew he loved me, even if in his own way. And I did love him, in my own way. That is why I agreed to this ridiculous physical, to make him happy. That is why I agreed to take a ride on this ship, to leave home. “Dr. Condel, where do we begin and what did my father ever mention? Were you his doctor at one point?" His orange skin shimmered into another form, another color that was truly unique in only the way that fantastical things could show our eyes.

... I had been diagnosed with a rare (genetic disease). I only had six months to live, at best... Everyone avoided me, refused to make eye contact with me. There was a stigma around my disease that hurt to hear it mentioned.

… –Chapter 2 started–